Restless Leg Syndrome
by DashRenders
Summary: A mature commission set after DH, ignoring canon: Harry asks Tonks to sit near him at a Weasley family gathering so Molly doesn't try to set him up with Ginny once again. Tonks would rather play footsie under the table and tease him in a very public place, instead.


_I was commissioned to write 3k words to ignore canon (gladly) and make Tonks tease poor Harry underneath a table at a public gathering with her foot. But I like this little pairing, so I fleshed it out a bit~  
It goes without saying that I do not own the characters used within (something which I'm sure we're all grateful for.)_

 ** _Restless Leg Syndrome_**

 _A Harry x Tonks commission_

* * *

The first thing Harry became aware of was the smell of cooking and the noise of other people milling around in the kitchen. The Burrow was always full of life, thanks in part to half a dozen Weasley's milling about at any given time. But it sounded like an entire herd of elephants was stampeding through the ramshackle house, and by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was immediately swept up by a flustered Molly.

"Oh, dear, can you give the lads a hand out in the garden?" she asked, but between her reddened cheeks and her look of urgency, it was the furthest thing from a request. She was away and back into the kitchen before he had any time to answer her. He shook his head, privately grateful that it was _all_ she was asking. Time and again, lately, Molly Weasley had been trying to get Harry to open up about his failed relationship with Ginny. Not so much the why's, as the ' _she misses you, why don't you swing by more often?'_ and other little pushes.

One day he knew he'd reach his limit and tell her, in no uncertain terms, that he and Ginny would _never_ be an item again. And he could imagine how well that little conversation would go down when it happened. Until then, he was happy to avoid it as much as possible, striding out into the Burrow's garden to keep busy with the other guests and avoid Ron and Ginny's mother for a while. If he was lucky, maybe he could sort out some seating arrangement before Molly sat him and her daughter together.

"Where does somebody need me?" he asked, clapping his hands together as Bill and Ron levitated banners and candles about with their wands. But the immediate answer came as a laugh nearby, coming from a witch who looked like she'd come straight from a Weird Sisters concert in ripped jeans, boots and vest.

"You must be _real_ popular at parties," Nymphadora Tonks grinned, hopping up beside Harry and scooping him into an overzealous one-armed hug. "How you going, mate?"

"Fine," he grinned. There was just a natural charm about Tonks that put him in a good mood. Nothing seemed too big when she was able to brush it off. And that's when it hit him: she was _perfect_. "Actually… you think you could do me a favour?" he asked quietly, steering her away from the Weasley boys. She arched a silver eyebrow, looking at him with bemusement.

"I'm flattered but… you sure the age difference thing doesn't matter to you?" She smirked as her hair became curly and blonde and she played with her fringe. "I mean, I _guess_ I could do something just for you…"

"Shush – you're perfect," he urged, and she winked.

"Flatterer. Alright – what can I do for you?"

Harry wasted no time in begging her to sit opposite him, just to really make sure there was no conspiracy going on to try and set him up with his ex. Even as he laid it out, he half expected her to snort or roll her eyes. Even Nymphadora Tonks had her limits when it came to crazy. But, blessedly, she just hummed and nodded.

"Not gonna lie – I was going to bet money that she'd do it, you know. But lucky for you, I'm a good friend, and I haven't found anyone to take me up on it. So you've got yourself a partner." Harry was so grateful that he actually pressed a kiss against the side of her head, immediately turning her hair a vivid shade of red as she leaned back and smirked again.

"Merlin – what kind of thanks does a girl get for going the extra mile?" she teased.

"Yeah, well…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling just a little awkward. She was a few years older than him after all, to say nothing of her own failed relationship with Remus. "I'm just thankful, alright?"

"Don't get your knickers in a knot," she giggled, elbowing him in the ribs. "It's fine. You really need to take the edge off a bit, and it's about time you and I spent some quality time together."

* * *

The table felt crowded and squeezed between Ron on one side, and George on the other was enough to make Harry feel a little claustrophobic. It didn't help that often enough their elbows all bumped together while they picked up their cutlery and passed food between one another. But at least he wasn't stuck sitting opposite Ginny. Tonks was as good as her word, just as she always was. As soon as Ron grabbed him and pulled him into the chair beside him, the older Metamorphmagus practically fell into the seat opposite him with a wink and a grin. Almost immediately she began striking up a conversation with Hermione, and she began to wave her hands about in a flurry as she described her latest Auror assignment.

"Now, Ginny, you sit near – ah."

Harry pretended to be too interested in pushing a pair of baked potatoes onto his plate to notice, but there was no doubt that Molly was hoping to play matchmaker and sit he and her daughter together. He knew she was disappointed when they broke up, but there was no chance of that flame ever reigniting.

"Yes, well, ah! You can sit here near your father and me," he heard her say, peeking up in time to see Tonks wag her suddenly-strawberry eyebrows at him and continue her chat with Hermione.

Bless her. Really.

For a magical table in a magical yard, and part of a magical world, Harry wondered why they were all crammed in together so much. His elbow must have collided with George's every thirty seconds, and under the table, he felt someone's leg bump his every so often. It was cosy, and there was the sensation of welcoming and familiarity that seemed to go hand in hand with the Weasley's and their events, but still.

Crowded, he thought, as Ron bumped his arm again and laughed.

"Sorry, mate," he grinned, wrapping an arm around his best friend's shoulder suddenly and pulling Harry over for a hug. Ron laughed as his plate was pushed aside from the action, and another leg began to assault Harry's under the table.

"Ronald, honestly," Hermione frowned at them, all while Harry set his plate right and adjusted his askew glasses. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"Weasley family gathering," he told her, matter-of-factly. "So if anything, I bought _you_ , Mrs Weasley."

"Of course," Hermione hummed, before smiling apologetically to Harry. "I'm sorry – I'll punish him when we get home."

"It's fine," Harry hummed, waving it away. Beneath the table, the leg was becoming distracting. Whoever owned it had their shoe off, and he felt their sole and toes moving back and forth over his calf in a slow, hypnotising way. He finished fixing his plate and looked across from him, where Tonks and Angelina Johnson-Weasley were both involved in a broad conversation about something he didn't quite hear. But Hermione just stared at him, smiling demurely.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You're looking a little… flush."

Beneath the massive wooden table, unseen by all, the mystery foot crawled a little higher, resting against his knee. It was definitely a woman's – the size alone was petite, almost dainty. Hermione stared a little harder, and he couldn't help but think it was her who was teasing him.

"Fine," he said, shaking his head before tapping his empty goblet. "Maybe drank a little too much too quickly, y'know?" She gave him another look, full of concern, and he felt her toes curl into the muscle of his leg.

Part of him couldn't quite believe it. Even if there were moments while growing up that he looked at Hermione as more than just his ingenious friend, he never expected anything like _this_ from her. And after all, she was married to his best friend! He gave a sideways look to Ron, wondering if maybe this little teasing was meant for _him_. But he was already too busy tucking into his dinner, oblivious to everything going on under the table. Sitting opposite them, Hermione gave him another intense stare as the foot began to rub up and down over his inner leg.

Married good friend or not, there was something so alluring about her deep brown eyes and the slow climb of her sole against his leg. And for the first time since their teenaged years spent adventuring together, Harry wondered just what could happen between them if not for the Weasley's in their lives.

"Maybe I ought to get you something a little… tamer," she smiled, giving him a knowing look. He felt his heart thump a little more as he wondered what possible meaning _that_ could be, until she pushed herself away from the crowded table and stood, grabbing his goblet and heading away towards a nearby drinks bench.

But most of all, the foot stayed against his leg, slowly dragging up and down while the toes curled over his muscle, before it squeezed him one more, dropped and vanished. Harry felt his face heat up once more, his mind a jumble of thoughts ranging from who his mystery tease was and if he was actually thinking that Hermione was giving him signals.

He looked back around the crowded table, where schoolmates and Order members talked and laughed and carried on in their own little worlds. Sitting just across from him, Angelina finished telling some lewd joke which sent Tonks' hair into a cycle of colours as she laughed. Harry cleared his throat and picked at his food, his knees rubbing together beneath the table.

It wasn't possible that he'd just gone ahead and imagined all that… was it?

Tonks was right – he needed to take the edge off himself. Or at least get out, more.

* * *

The dirty plates vanished with a few flicks of a wand, replaced with bowls of ice cream and toppings and puddings galore. Dessert was a meal in itself for a Weasley affair, and by the time everyone had pulled something towards them, Harry was feeling soberer than before. He told himself the little incident earlier was apparently just in his mind. Or there was a very kinky poltergeist at the party that nobody else had noticed.

Either way, there was no chance his oldest friend (married to his _other_ longest-friend) had been giving him a tease under the table, and Harry wasn't quite able to look at Hermione without imagining her naked and perched on his lap, mewling as she bounced up and down on his erection. All the effects of alcohol and loneliness, he told himself.

"'ere, Harry," George said around a mouthful of dessert. "Angie and I were wondering what the odds were of you picking up Quidditch again. I mean, you must get some spare time when you're not being hounded by the papers."

"Well…" Harry opened his mouth and paused, the words dying in his throat as he felt a tingling sensation in his groin. The telltale feeling of some charm being cast, that snared the zipper of his fly and began to draw it downwards. He looked up and down the table, hyper-aware of anyone with their hand on their wand. But all he saw was witches and wizards holding their bowls of ice cream and spoons, or drinks, or talking among themselves.

All except for Angelina, whose hands were hidden beneath the table.

"Yeah, Harry," she urged as he felt his zipper lowering the entire way. He didn't dare look down, knowing that any attention he drew would be immediately investigated by George and Ron. But as soon as he felt his jeans open up all the way the charm ended, and he watched the older girl bring her hands back up from underneath the tabletop. Long, dark fingers curled around her bowl in a coy manner, and he tried not to stare as she smiled at him.

"Nothing too serious," she continued, stirring her dessert with her spoon. "But now and again if you were keen to play Seeker for us, it could go a long way to giving us a bit of attention…"

"You may not like it much, but you're pretty much wizarding royalty, mate," George continued, swallowing some more of his ice cream and nudging him with his elbow. Harry only nodded, his mind entirely elsewhere as he felt the same foot from before making a return. This time with boldness, as he felt their leg sliding smoothly up against his and pushing his knees apart before it slid across his lap.

"I guess I am," he mumbled, looking at his two old teammates. George, who happily polished off his bowl and looked ready to grab another, and his wife, Angelina. Tall, pretty, with skin the colour of chocolate and a patient smile on her face. And all while Harry felt that same leg from before pressing between his thighs. Tiny toes wiggled and massaged along the length of his prick, which began to swell and grow against his will.

"How about it?" Angelina asked, popping her spoon into her mouth and pulling it out slowly. Harry breathed and shook his head, casting another glance down the table and seeing if anyone else around him could be busy teasing him. But the only witches around him were Hermione, Tonks and Angelina, and the other two were absorbed in a debate over house-elf liberation.

As if to rule them out entirely, he felt the mysterious toes curling around the front of his briefs, awkwardly pulling them forward and down, untucking his growing arousal. Something that felt entirely too complex for anyone in the throes of a discussion. But not for a woman who sat there, patiently staring at him while she sucked on her spoon. Harry gave her a questioning look, and he was answered by a soft, warm sole ghosting over his hardening flesh, putting just the slightest bit of pressure on him to make him harden fully.

"I guess I could always make time," he managed to say. Beneath the table, unseen by all, the dainty foot began to rub up and down against his awakened arousal, putting pressure here and there and leaving him pulsing with every naughty tease. Harry had to fight the urge to lean back and look down. He knew immediately he'd discover who his flexible tormentor was, but not without giving Ron and George a prime view of his untucked, hardened cock. And if it turned out the restless leg was dark and firm – like the athletic Angelina was – he could only imagine what George would say to that.

Hell, Harry wasn't sure what _he_ would say about it. Even if she, Katie and Alicia were all lovely to him in school (and yes, the older girls were obvious crushes for him), she was married like everyone else seemed to be. But between the warm look she gave him and the slow, sensual pressure sliding over his manhood, he once again found himself fantasising of another man's wife.

Maybe it was not knowing George as well as Ron. Perhaps it was the bare toes squeezing his enflamed tip and pressing against his shaft. But either way, it was a little easier for Harry to imagine Angelina's long legs wrapped tight around him as he pushing in and out of her dark, silken body.

"It would be terrific if you could, you know," she hummed, leaning forward a little bit. The pressure on Harry's arousal picked up, and her leg stroked up and down. It took real strength not to reach beneath the table and grab hold of her ankle to keep her from teasing him quite so much, but he kept both palms on his bowl. It didn't stop his hips from shifting forward, though, and he felt her toes curl a little tighter when he did.

"I'm sure I could work something out," he said, as calmly as he could. "It would be fun to play with the old team again, after all."

"That'd be great," she grinned. A dewdrop of precum forced its way to the head of his prick, and Harry felt her big toe rub over his tip a little harder than before. His hands grabbed his bowl a little tighter, determined to keep himself from making a noise and exposing himself. "We'd all appreciate it. I know Alicia would love to see you again."

The bare foot against his groin went flat and began to move up and down a little quicker, the pressure a little firmer. Harry forced a tight smile as he ate some ice cream, willing himself to cool down. At the rate she was going, it was probably just a matter of time before he hit his limit, and then there'd be trouble. Even if he could keep himself from making a scene while he quietly came at a dinner table, all while surrounded by friends, there'd be a messy evidence if nothing else.

"Me too," he forced himself to say. "It's been too long."

"Oh, hang on!" Angelina wriggled in her seat, reaching down beside her and grabbing for her handbag. "I'm almost sure I've got her address if you want to owl her…"

Harry Potter blinked and stared at her. No matter how tall and flexible she was, he'd have bet good galleons that she wasn't able to turn around in her seat and _still_ stretch her leg out into his lap. Not without some kind of bizarre potion or spell to help her, anyway. And all the while, the foot against his cock continued to squeeze and stroke up and down.

He couldn't take it anymore. As Angelina sifted through her handbag for Alicia Spinnet's address, Harry pulled his goblet to the side and gave it a quick bump with his elbow. Immediately the empty cup tipped over the edge, and he pretended to try and catch it.

"Ah, bugger," he grumbled, though he was mostly unnoticed. Ron and George both were far too busy with their deserts, and he took the opportunity to peer under the table as he reached down to grab his wayward goblet.

There, sitting opposite him, was Nymphadora Tonks, of course. One leg crossed over the other. But one was free of the boot she wore, and he watched as she wiggled her toes, each painted a different colour. Her leg swung back and forth playfully as if she were silently laughing at him. And knowing Tonks, she was.

He almost felt silly for not suspecting her in the first place. Harry sat up straight, his cup retrieved as he gave her a knowing look. The older witch glanced up, still talking to Hermione, but sparing him a mischievous grin and a flirty wink.

"You right there, Harry?" she asked innocently. "You look like you've got a boggart in your jeans."

"Something just as frightening," he fired back, earning a crow of laughter from Ron. Tonks merely wagged her eyebrows at him and wiggled in her seat. No doubt pushing her foot back into her boot, he thought. Now that she'd had her fun and he caught her, he hoped that would be that.

He really should have known better.

* * *

He didn't really plan to stay so long, but then plans never really worked out well for Harry Potter. It didn't take dark wizards and wartime, either – just Ron Weasley and entirely too much firewhiskey, followed by bawdy songs and cheers from everyone around them. By the time Harry managed to excuse himself (after quietly tucking himself in and zipping back up), he wasn't surprised to find it was after ten.

"I think I'll be making tracks in a minute," he said quietly, glancing back towards the end of the table. Ginny still sat there while talking to her mother. But every so often Molly would give a vague gesture in his direction, and he didn't like it one bit. Tonks may have saved him from an awkward dinner – and then tortured him, herself – but he wasn't in the clear until he managed to slip away without a fuss. How he managed to do both that and thank the Weasley's was something he hadn't quite worked out, yet.

"Oh, Harry!" Angelina quickly reached over and handed him a piece of parchment, smiling almost apologetically. "For Alicia," she explained, before adding to keep the offer in mind. He just smiled and nodded, glancing at the note in his hand: _Sorry about that. Tonks made me do it._

"I'll have a word with her soon, I'm sure," he told Angelina, pushing the note into his pocket and scooting his chair away from the table. He wondered just how much of what went on under the table she knew about.

"Oi, you're not leaving, are you mate?" Ron asked over the noise. "We were thinking of a little evening Quidditch match. What do you say?"

"Just heading off to the loo," he fibbed, clapping his best mate on the shoulder and heading off towards the hodgepodge Weasley home. It wasn't an urgent call of nature, but at least he might be able to slip away and later say he felt sick.

It was a weak excuse, and he knew it, but Harry was determined not to get dragged into one of Molly's "we miss seeing you around here" moments. And after Tonks' little stunt, he was looking forward to a cool shower. Or a long warm one, if he was feeling so lonely.

"Wotcher, mate."

Harry jumped as Tonks seemed to just appear beside him, grinning wildly from her little surprise.

"How d'you _do that_?" he cursed with a hand on his chest. The older witch shrugged, and her messy shoulder-length hair seemed to bounce from the motion. A new shade of teal, he noticed.

"I'm a girl of many talents," she said wisely. "Speaking of – colour me impressed that you didn't explode on me, earlier. I'd have lost money on that bet with how wound up you were." He gave her a flat look. He could just imagine her taking a bet on that, too.

"Didn't realise you were into gambling so much, lately. You mind sharing just _why_ you did all that under the table?" He reached past her and opened the kitchen fridge, grabbing a fresh drink and uncapping it. A playful pout greeted him when he shut the door, looking entirely out of place on her heart-shaped face.

"What? Didn't like it? It sure felt like you did."

"If you'd kept going, you'd know just how much I liked it," he remarked. Tonks' lips immediately quirked upwards as a naughty grin lit her face.

"You have no idea what an ego boost it is to hear you say that," she smirked.

"Sure. Is that why you thought it was a good idea?" Harry lifted his bottle only for Tonks to grab it out of his hand, tipping it back and drinking a mouthful while she winked at him.

"Yes," she said as she swallowed. "And you looked like you needed it. And I think you're a bit of a babe. And I wanted to do it." She stepped closer, pushing his drink back into his hand as her hair shimmered and became crimson red. Another step and Tonks was completely in his personal space, close enough to feel her warmth as she gazed up at him. "You ever think that maybe it was about time you stopped worrying about shit and just live a little?"

Harry swallowed. Tonks was attractive, and not just when she wanted to be. A metamorphmagus, sure, but more than that. A few years older, she was fun, flirty, energetic and confident. Merlin knew he'd have taken her company during those dark days if he could have, even if he was just as moody as the rest of his teenaged mates. And now it was impossible for him not to notice just how plush and moist her lips looked, or the subtle perfume that wafted up from her neck. And when did _her throat_ look oh-so-kissable?

"I wouldn't be very good at it," he murmured, unaware that his voice had grown thicker. "I haven't had much practice." It was a token gesture. A reason for her to walk away before he made a fool of himself. But Tonks thrived on being foolish, and one more step placed her knee between his legs.

"I can show you if you like," she whispered coyly. Like a promise, almost. She was everything that Harry wasn't used to, and now that he was close enough to see it, Harry _wanted_ it. He wanted to do something bold and stupid like lean down and kiss the pretty older witch right on those oh-so-lovely lips of hers.

"Alright," he hummed. And Tonks beat him to it. A grin flashed across her features before she stood on her toes and shoved her mouth against his. All at once Harry tasted drink and lip gloss and fun and excitement before her tongue pushed past his lips and upset his entire thought process. Her hands were _everywhere_ , and he grunted as he felt her palming him through the front of his jeans. Already he felt himself growing hard again, and Tonks seemed to purr.

"Yep. That's a mighty fine ego-boost, Harry Potter." She squeezed him a little too-tightly, making him jump and pulse in her hand.

"You're a witch of many talents," he reminded her, as smoothly as he could while she rubbed and massaged his erection.

"You've got no idea, hon," Tonks cooed. Her wand was in her hand a moment later – dropped from her sleeve, if he had to guess – and with a wave, he felt his belt unfasten and his jeans lower. She fell an instant later, settling on her knees and taking him in her hand. His vision blurred as he felt her hot tongue running along his length, from his base to his tip, before she opened her mouth and engulfed as much of him as she could.

Harry could only lean against the fridge and stare, his heart racing and his nerves ablaze. And all while Tonks gazed up from behind her thick lashes, her head bobbing up and down as she sucked his cock in the middle of his ex-girlfriend's house.

"Fuck," he swore, biting his lip to keep from groaning out. He looked off towards the door, leading to the garden path where all their friends sat drinking and chatting. "Is this _really_ the time or the place?" But his answer came in a wink and a twist of her fist on his shaft, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked him hard enough to make his vision blur.

"I thought you Gryffindor's were meant to be brave," she grinned, her hand pumping his length as she licked his swollen tip. "Aren't I pretty enough for you?" Tonks lowered her head, this time giving him a full view of her doe eyes. She knew she was attractive, he thought. In true Tonks fashion, she was just messing around with him.

And it was working, too. It didn't matter that anyone could walk in on them or that they weren't the closest of friends. She was a pretty, amusing, older witch who was having fun making him moan for her. Every hum she made vibrated along his shaft, and every swallow pulled him closer to the edge.

"Tonks, if you don't ease off – " The witch grabbed hold of his jeans, her brightly-coloured nails dragging down his legs as she thrust back and forth faster on his erection. ' _That was the point_ ,' she seemed to say as she stared up at him. The feeling of his sensitive tip inside her wet, warm mouth was maddening. But it was the way she looked up at him, with her hair turning a shade of familiar pink, the same as her lips, wrapped tight around his cock, that pushed him over his edge.

Harry stifled a groan as he bucked and came, his climax hitting him hard enough to make his legs wobble and his eyes blur. All he could do was brace himself against the Weasley's fridge and pull at Tonks' hair as she hummed in surprise. He was panting, and his heart was racing as she slowly leaned back half a minute later, his dick twitching and wet from coming so hard. The older girl pouted up at him, her cheeks full until she discreetly spat his seed into her hand and vanished the mess with her wand.

"Morgana's tits," she said, grinning up at him while licking her salty lips. "It really _has_ been a while, hasn't it? Feel better now, love…?" He smiled apologetically, his cheeks burning hot.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Sorry about that."

"S'okay," she chirped, standing up and adjusting the front of her clothes. She unfastened her belt without much preamble. "You're _going_ to make it up to me. Whatcha doing next week?"

"Er, what day?" he asked.

" _All week_ ," she stressed with a smirk. "I've got nine days off work, and I think we could both do with a little rest and rec, hm?" Then, smooth as silk, she took his hand and pulled it down to her open jeans, past the barrier of her panties until his fingertips were pressed against the wet, puffy folds of her pussy. Almost instinctively he touched her and Tonks bit her lip and purred. "Think it's about time you and I got to know each other better. What do you say…?"

Harry couldn't talk. Not while he was so focused on touching the slippery flesh of her core after coming so hard himself. He could only nod.

"Good man," she grinned, slipping an arm around his shoulder. "Let's you and me get out of here, hm?"

"What about everyone else?" he asked, even as her perfume began to take over his mind a little more.

"Screw 'em – we'll send a message later on."

Harry liked this – maybe someone like Tonks was just what he needed.


End file.
